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•AND BRIf|p'S BLEST 
WITH RIGfjPfe&OUSNESS ? 

AND THE 

FATE OF DULLSTROO^ 






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CfiFXRIOHT DEPOSIT. 



AND BRITAIN'S BLEST 
WITH RIGHTEOUSNESS? 

AND THE 

FATE OF DULLSTROOM 



BY 

JOHN W. RODDY 




M CM I 

THE GRAFTON PRESS 

NEW YORK 



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,322 A* 

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AND BRITAIN'S BLEST 
WITH RIGHTEOUSNESS ? 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two CopiEe Received 

OCT. 28 1901 

COPYTOGHT EWTRV 

CLAS8 XXo. No. 
COPY A. 



Copyright 1900 
By JOHN W„ RODDY 



AND BRITAIN'S BLEST WITH 
RIGHTEOUSNESS ? 



AND Britain's blest with righteousness ? 
And hers humanity's progress ? 
And Christianity's her creed ? 
And hers true liberty's rich meed ? 
And equity her proud conceit ? 
And hers e'en charity's spirit ? 
And magnanimity her grace ? 
And hers sincerity's solace ? 
And confidence now her concern ? 
And hers frank honesty's deep yearn ? 
And mercy dedicates her charm ? 
And prejudice her only harm ? 
And constancy her privilege ? 
And hers conception of faith's pledge ? 
No: she is curst with ghoulish traits. 
Her scowl is but the blight that freights 



With mortal scourge, aye, pestilence 

Earth's poor forsaken innocents. 

Her smile is but the smirk that sneers 

At sight of exiles' heart-racked tears. 

Her breath spits famine's putrid slime, 

About e'en nature's teeming clime : 

It blasts also the human heirs ; 

Lest they should dream of life's dread cares : 

Its fumes soon paralyze fresh zeal ; 

Existence may become too real. 

Her heart is but Hell's mockery : 

It gloats o'er victims' dying plea. 

And supplicant, or poor or weak, 

Must bear these tortures — and not speak. 

Her fell ambition rides rough- shod, 

Despite the mercy of her God, 

O'er ev'ry people, ev'ry clime — 

And destitute of pity's whim. 

Imperialism, her foul greed, 

Her lust of empire, goads to seeu 

Each trusting nation that forfeits 

Its own rich freedom, and entreats 

True justice from her Parliament : 

'Tis boon unknown to her mind's bent. 



As witness Erin. Her distress 

Adown the ages testifies 
"What 'trocious wrongs wait to oppress 

The simple people, most unwise, 
Who '11 e'er submit to such control. 
Ah, better death — or exile's goal ! 
Is she alone in such despair ? 
Are hers the ravings bred of air ? 
The mouthings brewed from discontent ? 
Is hers malignancy's accent ? 
What other people can attest 
Like misery ? Where earth's harvest 
Well nigh o'erlooks man's agency ; 
Where nature's gardens flourish free, 
— Rich India — e'en at this hour, 
There stalks grim famine, plague's twin pow'r 
And beckoned on, aye, sanctioned e'en 

By shrewd indiff'rence and neglect : 
And millions starve ; and death's weird grin 

Blasphemes each moment, flaunts effect. 
That clime where romance doubly blooms, 
And ages halo mem'ry's fumes, 
Now mildews man's vitality; 
It clots his spir'tuality. 



There now the germs of foul disease, 
Taxation's burdensome increase, 
Are propagating future plagues, 
While vampire 'ficials strain the dregs. 
Then pensioners e'en curse the day 
That destiny dares 'sert her sway. 
But grandeur's temples, here and there, 
And courtly ceremonies share 
Their loyal spectacle, so man 
Might be as wise— nor once complain. 
These are the triumphs of the care 
That Britain, with her lordly air, 
Now dedicates to peoples' trust. 
And who dares call this empire's lust ? 

And in abeyance now her greed ? 
Or torpid from the dearth of need ? 
Or hers the stupor that prevails 
When deep distempers lose their spells ? 
Or in that majesty of worth, 
When justice garbs each moment's birth, 
When honor's true impressiveness 
Indentifies her people's dress ? 
Ah, vain presumption ! List, what groans, 



E'en at this instant — human moans — 

Unnerve the pilgrim who delays 

'Bout Afric's vales ? What hellish bays 

Mock thunder's frenzy, aye, blaspheme 

The faith of nature's own regime ? 

O'er veldt and kopje, ever green, 

Now Britain's war-dogs, nursed on spleen, 

Pursue their trail, all frothing mad. 

Their appetite goads on their raid, 

And craves its fill of human gore ; 

Nor recks the murd'rous schemes of war. 

Their eyes are bloodshot with wild rage, 

And blazon with the snake's visage. 

Their tongues protrude with hellish zest ; 

All anxious, too, man's blood to test. 

Their nostrils, too, strain and dilate, 

To scent their victims' habitat. 

Their breaths spit fumes of deadly green, 

So e'en the air transmits their spleen. 

Their very presence desecrates 

These sacred precincts — violates 

The simple peasantry who toil 

Content to live, proof 'gainst fate's spoil. 

Ye humble Boers, what foul offence 



Here stultifies your innocence ? 
What awful crime attests your sway, 
As but crude savagery's assay ? 
What 'trocious outrage alienates 
Humanity ? Flaunt ye hell's traits ? 
Alas]]! Ah, know, ye honest folk, 
That when yon wilderness ye broke, 
And from wild beasts and savage men, 
Ye dared reclaim a hearthstone — den, 
Ye e'en presumed to beathe, to live 
In nature's freedom, and so give 
Your spirits true immunity 
From man's officiousness — envy. 
Nor once considered Britain's smirk ; 
That omen of some fiendish work. 
Then, too, ye dared to claim, aye, own 

The jeweled sands and sun-lit quartz 
Within your precincts : where are sown 
The gorgeous treasures earth supports. 
Whilst Britain's avarice and greed 
Half mocked possessions' s title-deed. 
Then worst of all, ye dared, forsooth, 

To organize a government : 
And, too, presumed— O fateful truth ! 



To regulate e'en aliens' bent. 
Nor sued ye once at Britain's shrine, 
In token of her rights divine 
And her omnipotence of zeal, 
To supervise all peoples' weal. 
Alas, ye, too, unmasked her schemes ; 
Ye balked her filibusters' dreams : 
So think ye she '11 once change her role, 

And glory in true righteousness ? 
As well the devil yield control, 

And pestilence its foul caress ! 
Ah, witness — how humane her way ! 
Her war-hounds only ease their prey. 
Indeed ! see, they tear poor farmers ; 
Then gloat like ghouls, hell's slimed charmers. 
And Chamberlain, high imp of grace, 
And Salisbury, goad on their pace. 
And this is her humanity. 
And Christian, too, her sanity. 
Whilst scribbling knaves and rhyming freaks 
Sing their hosannas — vampire shrieks. 
Their maudlin mouthings — anthems sweet 
Unto the slums — would honor cheat. 



But, waifs of fate, ye peasants, bred 

Where liberty anoints the sod, 
Stampede the murd'rous whelps with lead, 

Give them chilled steel's impressive nod. 
Yield not an inch — protect your kin, 
Your wives, your homes — flout discipline 
With weird ambush, lest strategy 

And tenfold numbers circumvent 
Your noble few — grasp destiny 
And twist it now subservient. 
Frustrate the penury of pride ; 
Be stealthy as the snake in glide : 
Fling back their onslaughts — blast their packs 
With instant yet unseen attacks : 
Precipitate the linghtning's spell ; 
Teach them the horrors of war's hell ; 
Prostrate their bloated arrogance : 
Waylay their majesty's advance: 
Debauch their confidence with fear ; 
Then reason will suppress greed's sneer ; 
And forced humanity will sert 
Its true precedence — now inert. 
Proscribe all favors they'd extend ; 
Your independence comprehend. 



So shift all dreams of happiness. 

Until those hounds unsinewed be : 
Nor 'just existence 'til distress 

Be but a whim of memory. 
Nor barter vigilance e'en then 

At beck of glory ; for vengeance 
Will permeate their ev'ry vein, 

And jeopardize your welfare's chance. 
And 't will, if need there be, confess 
Full penitence, don meek address. 

And well, so far, ye've fixed your worth : 
Ye've corraled here the wolves of earth: 
Ye've flaunted grim defiance, too, 
Afore such packs — villainy's crew. 
And e'er do so. Let time record 
That Spion Kop — O rich reward ! 
Reverberates Majuba's psalm 
And soothes your souls in fearless calm. 
Ah, these are master 'chievements, too, 
They demonstrate manhood's issue. 
O G6d of Righteousness, ordain 
Destruction to yon murd'rous train ! 
O'erwhelm their dread marauding bands 



Lest they bring famine o'er these lands ! 
Hurl down Your thunderbolts and sear 
Their hellish hearts 'til abject fear 
Strikes terror to their vague conscience, 
And sloughs off greed's omnipotence ! 

'T is easy for fiends to assume 

Humanity's integrity : 
Their scruples deprecate the doom, 

They effervesce in secrecy. 
Their machinations, too, convince 

Their hearts that justice, honor, faith — 
Are theirs incarnate : their instincts 

Vouchsafe to soothe poor peasants' death. 
Ah, how impressive ! yes; how grand ! 
What spectacle for this crude land ! 
See — countless legions, bristling deep 
With pregnant steel, in braggart sweep, 
Strut up and down these haunts, and prey 
Like cannibals on human clay. 
Then frothing steeds take up the trail 
When they default — nor 'lowed to fail. 
Yet these are but the instruments 
Of empire's lust and false pretense : 



And all in search of but a few 
Of noble hearts, who dared undo 
E'en Britain's deviltry and spite ; 
Who still debauch her thieving might. 
Ah, Spartan valor seems most tame, 

When tested 'gainst your courage here, 
Ye loyal Boers ! Let earth proclaim 

A folk more fit to engineer 
The virtues of sound equity, 
True solvent in State's chemistry. 
Yours are the homes and families 

Where spirit of utmost good faith 
Prevails ; where confidences please : 

Nor selfish whims reveal their wraith. 
Your piety and reverence 
Need not the sanction of hell's 'gents : 
Nor need your homely honesty 
Certificate from villainy. 
But are thase virtues all unknown 

That nations seem so callous now, 
Whilst dying patriots atone 

With their life's blood for freedom's vow ? 

Are governments so jealous that 
Humanity is but spite's brat? 

17 



Or are they paralized with fear, 

Lest ocean's Juggernaut might sneer ? 

'T is yesterday in conference 

They thrilled the soul with evidence 

Of their good faith, their equity : 

And arbitration their strong plea. 

To-day ? Indeed, they're all perverse : 

Not one dares balk earth's dreadful curse. 

These fields now sweat with human gore ; 

And morrows 'bode hell's own down-pour. 

'T is not Boer men alone who bleed; 

E'en beardless youths, striplings, indeed, 

Obey the instincts of their clime : 

Their fresh young blood yields to greed's crime. 

But are these all ? See, whose yon clay 

Yet warm from life's extinguished sway ? 

O see, the form declares the sex. 

Ah, maiden she. What foul effects ! 

And this is war ? yes ; murder grim — 

And Christianity's regime. 

There trikle down her virgin breasts 

The crimson streams — death's fell bequests. 

The ugly gashes 'dentify 

The bayonets' mad savagery. 



Alas, behold, how fair her face ! 

Yet fixed her brow in death's embrace. 

Her lineaments, girlish quite, 

Are fresh as those of sleeping sprite. 

She seems the index of chaste worth : 

And yet so soon cut off from earth. 

Is this a sample of man's care, 

Of martial chivalry and pride ? 
Ah, Britian, answer! Is 't despair 

That wreaks such vengeance, since aside 
Your steel-browed hordes maraud in vain ? 
And yours humanity's fit reign ? 
Atrocious murder ! And alone ? 
Nay— many such have here been known. 
And why ? Come, Britain, what's your plea ? 
Dare ye confess your infamy ? 
Or, would ye, if ye dared ? Ah, no ! 
Ye'U gloat, and make it glory's show. 
Your greed, your conscience and your gold, 
The trinity your schemes unfold, 
Here run amuck : they'd scourge, aye, rot 
Man's own existence — life e'en blot — 
From these crude haunts : then blaze on high 
What awful crimes stirred destiny. 

19 



But know, your genius and your zeal, 
Your dev'lish iustincts — climes to steal — 
Have e'en before been set at naught 
And blasted by brave farmers ; taught 
Their independence scorned your might. 
And here again ye'll see it smite. 
Your Anglo-Saxon liberty 

Is but a synonym for lust 
Of empire; 'tis, indeed, myst'ry : 

And effervescent with pride's rust. 
This panacea cures the ills 

All alien peoples suffer from : 
Then balks their hopes, and mocks appeals, 

Whilst filibust'ring with freedom. 
And, too, ere long oppression's spell 
Initiates its burdens fell. 
Then tyranny blights every hearth : 
And man thus 'joys its cursed berth. 
'Tis plague to independence' worth. 

So, sturdy Boers, let sinews speak : 
Let ev'ry nerve be strung to wreak 
Unending vengeance 'gainst yon packs, 
'Gainst Britian's infamous attacks. 



Let grim defiance be your faith, 

E'en to the moment of your death. 

Let yonder crags and peaks imbue 

Your souls with thunder's blasting brew. 

Let fiery hail annihilate 

The squadrons that would steal your state. 

Let lightning's blinding torch efface 

Aught vestige of their sordid race. 

Let not defeat annul your zeal; 

Be ready e'er to blunt their steel. 

Let ev'ry precipice ordain 

Your sleepless vigils, and sustain 

Your resolutions to defy 

Their tried maneuvers — strategy. 

The air that fans yon kopjes grand 

And yon bold ridges doth demand 

Allegiance most inviolate : 

It scorns submission — 'tis slaves' trait. 

And faithfully, ye noble band, 
Have ye defied the fiends' demand : 
Ye've spurned their machinations fell ; 
And e'en profaned their citadel : 
Ye've blanketed their haughty pride ; 



And dared to tear their shams aside : 

Ye've shattered, too, their venal ranks ; 

And blasted more than one phalanx : 

Ye've taught the filibusters how 

True freemen consecrate their vow, 

To hold most sacred kin and home ; 

Also to dedicate freedom. 

So yours the destiny that pleads, 

Not in loud boasts, but in grim deeds. 

O ever thus continue here ! 

Spurn suzerainty's bastard sphere : 

'Tis but oppression's stealthy whim, 

The legerdemain of greed's dream. 

Let your tried manhood and prowess 

Effectuate your readiness 

To challenge instantly the herd 

Of villains, who'd — all undeterred — 

Attempt to e'en subvert your State, 

Your Government. Let death create 

— And naught save death — your apathy, 

And terminate your energy. 

Let yonder thickets, aye, yon heights 

Intensify your confidence : 
They yawn as heritage where rights 



Must be immune from felons' prints. 
Let such grim fastnesses reserve 

Their mystical omnipotence, 
'Til when all-fagged beats ev'ry nerve, 

They then breathe forth hopes' eloquence, 
And fire the worn out spirits, so 
They 'gain respond; aye; challenge foe. 
Let future ages realize 

The awful hardships you have borne. 
What 'trocious wrongs dared jeopardize 

E'en your existence : what foul scorn 
Those hypocrites — O Nations bred 
In Christianity's wise creed ! — 
Rained down upon your ev'ry pray'r 
For recognition: what despair, 
Too, racked your torn vitality, 
And tortured with mad agony. 
Yet through them all your fortitude 
Ignored defeat : your courage brewed 
A fearlessness that beggared aught 
E'er known to man — with wisdom fraught. 
Hence may the God of Righteousness 

Continue to protect your cause ! 
And may His infinite process 

23 



Inaugurate immortal laws 
Of freedom and humanity ! 

And may He manifest His care 
For your concern, your constancy 

And your fidelity — most rare ! 
And may His confirmation bless 
Your heroism with true success ! 



24 



THE FATE OF DULLSTROOM 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two CopiEe Receive© 

OCT. 28 1901 

Copyright wttrv 

8LA88 &S XXo. No. 

COPY A. 



Copyright igoi 
By JOHN W. RODDY 



THE FATE OF DULLSTROOM 



I 



AH, see : how sweet, how innocent 
Down Steilport Vale the rich pageant 
Of village and of hamlet now ! 
Each seems a garden full in blow. 
They nestle 'neath yon ridges wild, 
Yon rugged heights, each as the child 
Who rests upon its mother's breast, 
And flourishes alone most blest. 
And balms and perfumes mingle there, 
As tho' they'd dedicate the care, 
The soothing bliss each day reveals. 
Contentment smothers greed's appeals. 
The breaths from yonder crags undo 
Aught shadow of distrust : they brew 
An incense that exhilarates 
Man's spirit to defy such fates, 
As would torment him with the gloom 
Of bondage, or oppression's doom. 
Now ev'ry village far and near 
Is garbed in home's familiar cheer. 

27 



There is that sanctity of grace, 
That air of humbleness, that trace 
Of true humility and worth, 
Which permeates the fam'ly hearth. 
'Tis Dullstroom's panorama opes 
Afore the wand'rer's wak'ning hopes. 
His startled gaze, his wond'ring sense, 

In deep appreciative spell, 
Drink in the precious influence 

Yon cozy spectacle doth tell. 
See : how reputable, how free, 
Each farmstead looms in specialty. 
Each seems impressed with solemn pride, 
As 'midst yon fruit trees it doth 'bide. 
While yonder are the herds and flocks, 
Unguarded as yon barren rocks. 
Too, cereals and flowers play 
At efflorescence like dawn's ray. 
All vegetation seems abloom, 
As tho' 'twere nature's own green-room. 
And see : how glorious, how gay, 

'Bout mother earth's rich velvet couch, 
The babes now while the hours away, 

And gambol to each zephyr's touch. 



Their sun-kissed locks, their glowing cheeks, 

Their dancing eyes where mischief speaks, 

Their sacred brows and dimpled smiles, 

Their merry laughter, artless wiles, 

Their lisping voices without end, 

All mingle there, and seem to blend 

In holy cadence, while on high 

The songstresses of air reply. 

Theirs is an innocence, indeed, 

Nor brute nor savage would impede. 

But where the mothers? where the maids? 

Ah, theirs the cares ! Duty pervades 

Their ev'ry move as now they toil 

Within their homes. Their thoughts recoil 

Again and 'gain from such routine, 

To wish and pray, with nerve-racked mien, 

For dear ones safety and success 

On fields afar where fiends transgress. 

Their senses reel at times as tho' 

The madhouse would round out life's glow. 

Their nervous tension, wrung with fear, 

Half beckons to prostration's swoon ; 
And burning cheeks and sobs revere 

Aught circumstance of justice boon. 

29 



Whence vivid imagery faith saps ; 
And tears interpret hearts' collapse. 
Then, too, again their eyes but stare, 
As tho they read impressions rare, 
Transmitted from the haunts of strife ; 
Where loyalty seems merged with life. 
Their cheeks also take on a pale, 
Unnatural tint, as some veil 
Of mystery. And efforts seem 
Mechanical as babe's first whim. 
They 're cognizant of dear ones' trust 
In brave DeWet. Ah, 'tis most just ! 
Yet those dear ones may at this time 

Be wrapped in sleep's eternal hush : 
Or, they may never, such their crime, 

Behold their babes, their wives — so blush, 
Ye Christian scoundrels, 'tis your greed 
That 's sowing evils' hell-nursed seed 
Through ev'iy precinct of this clime! 
Disasters stem to ye sublime. 
But constant as the break of dawn 
These women through grim perils' yawn. 
The tender airs quite sooth and 'suage 

Aught of misgiving, hence their nerves 

30 



Again doth reconcile faith's pledge, 

The glory independence serves. 
And now their spirits fairly thrill, 
As tho' rehearsing Heav'n's own will — 
Responsive to rich freedom's breath, 
Their hopes defy the pangs of death. 
Enthusiasm fires ev'ry sense 
And thieves their hearts of consequence, 
Of vague exhaustion's impotence. 
Their eyes, too, blaze with sudden glow, 
And warmth and zeal refresh their brow. 
And buoyant visions justify 
Their new born confidence. Each sigh 
But consecrates devotion's 'pulse, 
And dedicates hopes' fond results. 

II 

Now morn is on : the heavens glow 
In richest radiance; their flow 
Of infinite splendor imports 
Refreshing tenderness, and thwarts 
Aught circumstance of witching gloom. 
Hell's horrors break not here in bloom. 
Greed's murd'rous frenzy visits not 

3i 



This sanctuary; nor invades 
These fatherless homes. 'Tis their lot 

To 'scape the ghouls' atrocious raids. 
Here nature, too, now consummates 
Her ev'ry promise. These estates 
Are garbed in vegetation's wealth : 
Whose fragrance stays the drooping health. 
The sunbeams soften sorrow's touch 
And half propitiate fate's clutch. 
They tender sweet refreshment here 
To hearts quite racked with mortal fear. 
And ev'ry breeze seems charged with joy ; 
The hours know not war's dread alloy. 
The wraiths of mis' ry desecrate 
Not these blest haunts ; nor 'nitiate 
Their fatal scourge, their pestilence. 
Abroad there 's naught but innocence. 
The babes, too, dance and frisk as tho' 
Some angel whispered that day's glow 
Should be eternal. They engage 
Each moment ere it craves passage. 
They clap their hands and shout with glee— 
The butterflies are not more free. 
But, stay : behold the mothers now : 

32 



Also, the maids. Alas ! each brow 

Is sad : some eyes are fixed afar : 

They search yon kopjes : mortal war 

They know is raging: and its brands 

Are devastating neighbor lands. 

They scan in vain familiar heights : 

No dear one's form grows on their sights. 

Their thoughts reck not the day's progress ; 

Nor contemplate households' address. 

Some eyes are fixed upon the hearths, 

As near the mothers sit and stare : 
But their protectors make their berths 

Afar — to stay greed's wolves most spare. 
They hold communion with the forms, 
That seem to people, as weird worms, 
The smoking embers : but no light 
Arouses the depths of their sight. 
They seem half lifeless, and intent 
To let all duties be misspent. 
No tidings from the grim conflict 

For days have 'prised them of their lords : 
Hence dreadful suff'ring they depict 

As dear ones' lot 'gainst fiendish hordes. 
This crude uncertainty torments 

33 



With constant gnawing. Its incense 
E'en smothers faith, and blasts each dream 
Wherein they'd color hopes' regime. 
Few words are uttered : heavy sighs 
At times upset — O weird surprise — 
This gloomy stillness : cheeks are wan 
And haggard ; eyes of dull ebon ; 
And lips take on a bloodless hue, 
Half livid; while jet tresses strew, 
With careless 'bandon, all restraint. 
Expression's fervor grows most faint. 
Indifferent attention 'tends 
Day's ev'ry incident : fate spends 
In vain aught premonition here : 
Its chrysalis wakes lone and drear. 
And ev'ry movement seems endowed 
With sheer exhaustion : spirits proud 
Have grown inanimate, indeed : 
Ambition's 'pulse clots ere 'tis freed. 

Ill 

But, stay! O see ! yes; look again! 
'Tis no phantom of a mad brain, 
'Tis grim reality. O God ! 

34 



It paralyzes ev'ry sense : 
Aye ; shrivels up earth's fertile sod; 

And blights this land's intelligence. 
See : what thickening clouds of smoke, 
As tho' in mock'ry of night's cloak, 
Break from yon farmsteads ! smoth'ring, too, 
Yon lamps that 'witch the heaven's blue. 
It swells on high like some vast wave 
That sweeps resistless ocean's grave. 
What fleecy haze hangs on its rear ! 
What dense infernal blazes smear 
And burst the rafters with that rage 
E'er known as hell's own heritage! 
They glut the heavens with wild fire; 
Annihilating gloom's attire. 
O, awful conflagration this ! 
Alas, Dullstroom, what Nemesis 
Breathes such chastisement ? And wherefore ? 
Answer, Britain! Yes; 'tis your score. 
See: snaky tongues of ghastly flame, 
As tho' imbued with greed's foul aim, 
Spit sulph'rous slime about each breeze, 
And 'noint disorders' lethal ease. 
Their presence flaunts a gangrene such 

35 



As violates e'en death's dread touch. 

A hundred flames merge into one : 

'Tis man's volcano ; his, alone. 

Its fumes are charged with venom's zeal: 

They suffocate all human weal. 

Its lurid fangs, with fiendish glee, 

Froth pestilence — decay's orgy. 

But, stay : whose are those forms ? they flit 

With burning brands 'bout each farmstead, 
Like demons breathing hell's spirit — 

They grovel like hyenas dread. 
They batter down each guardless door, 
And burglarize each home: aye, more : 
They pillage, yes, e'en violate, 
And smash and tear each hearth's estate. 
They smirk and sneer, and comment, too, 
That valuables are so few. 
They brush aside each mistress, while 
Their lusty eyes would fain defile. 
They penetrate each sanctum there : 
Not e'en babes' chambers 'scape their care, 
Then like some ghouls from out a fen 
They half compare each other's gain. 
Their glances seem endowed with glow 

36 



Most devilish, like wolves' shadow. 
Their dull grimaces illustrate 

What tender feelings thrill their hearts ; 
What warm humanity doth sate 

Their sense of righteousness ; what starts 
Their condescending chivalry, 
And 'stablishes their sympathy. 
Indeed ! how true ! see; like mean swine, 

They drive the mothers — all unstrung — 
And their weak babes, O gems divine ! 

With taunts and sneers, from hearths now wrung 
With mem'ries of a thousand joys, 
From homes where thrive love's ev'ry voice. 
And this, too, with that fiendish zeal, 
Allied to savagery's revel. 
Aye; e'en with force they dispossess 
Each helpless maid, unnerved mistress. 
Nor infant nor the aged stay 
The sinews of proud Britain's sway. 
And into night's damp chilly air 
They turn them loose, racked with despair. 
They, too, deny them shelter e'en 
Within the stalls, or cribs, or pen. 
What noble men ! ah, heroes all ! 

37 



How 'lustrious ! theirs is the call 

To honor and to glory here. 

Protectors they of fame most dear ! 

And theirs are consciences most pure ! 

Intoxication doth assure 

Fidelity to aught pretense — 

They 're civilization's agents ! 

They'd reconcile the reign of law ! 

But human lives ? Ugh ! trifles raw. 

Indeed ! who dares question their course ? 

Whose is the impudence ? what force ? 

They'd institute true righteousness ! 

But innocents ? Curse their distress ! 

They'd stamp their genius o'er this land ! 

The people ? Well, beast and brigand 

Attest the spell of Britain's arm : 

Why not these folks thrive 'neath its charm ? 

Their nationality ? Why, fate 

Ignores such shading; 'tis sham trait. 

But British nationality ? 

'Deed, sir ! Damn such effrontery ! 

'Tis 'trocious insult! Britain's care 

Pre-empts all use of earth and air. 



38 



IV 

Behold : in groups the women drift 
Now here, now there : their senses shift 
From soul-torn lamentations low 

And gnawing anguish's collapse 
To half unconscious stupor's glow 

In dumb amazement. Their mishaps 
Become forgotten, while yon sight, 
Yon conflagration, fiends' foul blight, 
Bewilders reason's dominance. 
They stare, as tho' undone in trance, 
Aye, half possessed of some weird spell, 
At seething flames, the slime of hell. 
They see their sacred hearths and homes 
Devoured by fire; whose fury combs 
Each circumstance of destiny. 
The long lean fangs, with murd'rous glee, 
Jab at the deep rich vault on high 
And its soft gleams, as tho' to try 
Their fitful reign of vengeance here, 
As 'gainst the calms of night's career. 
The suffocating clouds of smoke, 
On ev'ry hand, half serve to cloak 
Yon villainous monsters, outlaws : 

39 



Whose hatred recks not faith or cause. 
Where'er some farmstead seems immune 
To flames progress their torches soon 
Establish hell's significance. 
Alas ! what fiends men countenance ! 
Now Dullstroom blazes — one dense mass 
Of crackling ruins. O, alas ! 
What spectacle for human souls ! 

O God ! What awful grandeur this ! 
What fiery belching ! Sulph'rous shoals 

'Pear now and then 'bove flames' abyss. 
'Tis hell's own maelstrom of wild fire, 
Let loose to vindicate man's ire. 
In raging torrents, not unlike 

Volcano's mad upheaval, now 
The flames tear upward : yes; and strike 

'E'en yon foul whelps with terror low. 
They crawl and crouch as tho' they knew 
The outraged Providence would brew 
Some punishment, condign and meet. 
Their bragadocio wilts complete. 
And who are these brutal scoundrels? 

Why, these are Kitchener's gallants — 
The pride of Britain. His counsels, 

40 



Too, formulated their advance. 
His is the master-brain, that smears 
This land with mothers' heart-wrenched tears. 
And laughs to scorn ought shelter here 
For babes from nights' chill atmosphere. 
All hail ! the soul of Alva reigns. 
'Tis 'gain incarnate o'er these plains. 
Akin to pestilence its breath 
Disseminates disease and death. 

V 

See : Dullstroom 's but a smold'ring pile 
Of charred ruins, of ashes vile. 
Its thrifty avenues now yawn 
With gruesome debris. Each fresh lawn 
Is all besmeared with refuge foul. 

The flowers and vines ne'er again 
Shall soothe the weary fatigued soul. 

Nor vegetation trust man's reign. 
The earmarks of prosperity — 

The well stocked farms and homes most trim- 
Are gone fore'er. Gaunt misery 

E'en grovels in its weird regime. 
The honest efforts, worthy zeal, 

4i 



Vicissitudes of life's appeal, 

The simple wants and purpose true, 

Indomitable courage, too, 

— All, all are blasted : naught remains. 

Grim desolation marks these plains. 

But stay : there is some evidence 

Of life about : see; children stray 
All aimlessly: their innocence 

Would temper e'en the beasts of prey. 
And scanty, too, is their attire : 
While chilling airs raw drafts respire. 
Pitiably they cry and moan, 
While clinging to each mother's gown. 
They call for home and its retreat : 
The ghastly ruins mock and greet. 
Then, too, the babes that take the breast 
Instinctively crave for night's rest. 
The half-bare bosoms mitigate 
In vain their sorely distressed state. 
Their soft angelic dimples fade : 
And plaintive wails break o'er night's shade. 
And now the mothers, quite distraught, 

Approach unconsciously the haunts, 
Which scarce a moment since were fraught 

42 



With love's beneficence, life's wants. 
They 'gin to wake, as from a dream : 
Their cheeks half flush — their dark eyes gleam 
With witching fire — their lips are set — 
And ev'ry nerve is strung to whet 
Their bitter indignation now. 

Their spirits devastate hopes' care, 
And thrill vitality's marrow 

With blood refreshed from grim despair. 
And half in hiss they voice each pulse : 
Their feelings challenge times results. 
" Sneak off, you cursed whelps of hell ! 
'Tis meet ye 'd know your Alva's spell. 
Go — slink away, ye monsters foul ! 

Ye well deserve his confidence. 
There 's written in your zeal, your scowl, 

The impress of his recompense. 
Ye craven curs, your spirits slime 
The institutions of this clime. 
The genius of our land ye 'd blight, 
To gratify your 'trocious spite. 
Traditions, too, ye 'd blast and smear 
With greed's omnipotence, veneer. 
Our innocence ye 'd flaunt and twit 

43 



As primitive: our hope's ye 'd greet 

With stern oppression's policy : 

And all our comforts ye 'd decree 

As most repugnant to the sense 

Of Christianity's patience. 

'Tis manifest, humanity 

Wakes not your pulse, your sanity. 

But, who 's deceived ? 'Tis self same spite, 

That armed the savages of night, 

And egged them on to murd'rous hate 

Along the Mohawk : then more late 

Applied the torch to Norfolk's homes; 

And 'gain to Washington's. Time combs 

Invain your fell malignancy. 

Destruction clots your crude fancy. 

Indeed ! ye are most competent 

To civilize mankind — to mold 
Ambitions, yes, temperament, 

And soothe his feelings' intense hold ! 
Yes ; ye devilish fiends, ye ghouls, 
Solicitude subdues your souls ! 
Ye maudlin brats, 'tis vengeance' hate, 
That 's raging in your hearts. Our State 
Ye 're determined to burn and scourge ; 

44 



But we 're not dead : the dawn must urge 
Some retribution. If naught be, 
Then for vengeance and its mis'ry. 
Aye, everlasting. Let grim time 
Establish 'gain the reign of crime. 
Let sire to son these days reveal. 
Let solemn vows — oaths on cold steel — 
Refresh their spirits, buoy their pride, 
Adown the ages. Let hopes' tide 
Unleash restraint, and spurn with vim 

Suspicion e'en of compromise. 
Let mortal combat, stern and grim, 

E'er flourish o'er this land — revise 
Its homely instincts, and endow 
Its ev'ry sinew and marrow. 
Let ev'ry morn invigorate 
The night's allegiance, despite fate. 
Let steel and lead and torch transmit 
The homage here our sons deem fit. 
Let Britain's vampires realize 
The untold tortures wars devise — 
The utter 'bandonment of faith — 
The lacerations of slow death. 
Let ev'ry haunt be peopled e'er 

45 



With sleuth hounds charged with sore despair. 

Let yonder hills and mountains gauge 

Security to freedom's badge. 

Let crags and peaks reverberate 

Defiance echoes — life's estate. 

Let Britain's bastard dreams and greed, 

Her rampant perfidy, her creed 

Of infamous officiousness, 

Be shattered by cold lead's process. 

VI 

Yet her mad onslaughts are outdone 
By gospel mongers' cheap reason. 
Her Christian ministers pervert 

The brainless multitude's conscience ; 
And prompt their spirits to assert 

And 'stablish their omnipotence. 
Her mothers, too, coerce each heart, 
That fain would yield to honor's smart. 
Another Chamberlain, indeed, 
Or Kitchener, twins of hell's breed, 
They half imagine in each son. 
Alas ! their senses seem undone. 
The rare sagacity and trust 

46 



Of Gladstone's worth they spurn as dust. 

'Tis most offensive to their pride. 

But wait— our blood will yet decide. 

O Nature, clothe our wombs with care, 

Give us fecundity most rare, 

That sons aplenty may be our share ! 

All hopes of comfort we'll forego : 

We'll charge out milk with vengeance' vow 

Since fiends from hell tear and destroy 

Our homes, our lives let death employ 

His slimy machinations, too, 

And clot their souls with lethal dew. 

O may their multitudes be curst 

With loathsome plagues, diseases worst ! 

May some dread cataclysm devour 

Their ev'ry corse ! May floods o'erpow'r ! 

May some cloudburst denude these lands 

Of ev'ry trace of their fell bands! 

May grim paralysis besmear 

Their hell-nursed spirits ! May life's cheer 

Be strangled by mad agony, 

By sloughing tortures' specialty ! 

May ev'ry sense be ravaged, torn 

By foulest blights earth can suborn ! 

4-7 



May awful misery attend 

Their ev'ry moment 'neath this clime ! 
May their hypocrisy, their blend 

Of national weal, rot in slime ! 
And may their wives and mothers know 
What awful suff'ring 's been our woe ! 
May their fond hearts be racked and wrung, 
As ours have been by throes unsung ! 
May their proud souls be scalded, too, 
With burning fevers' wasting brew ! 
May they experience the blight 
Of some wild demons' 'trocious spite ! 
May their devotion win the sneers 
Of maudlin wretches, while their tears 
Are charged with frenzy's mad despair ! 
May gnawing anguish be their share ! 
And may their dreams of love and bliss 
Succumb to instincts, crude, amiss ! 

VII 

" Yes, know: our heritage is air and sun, 
While mother earth confers her tone 
Of liberty, of freedom here. 
Fate's augury grows less austere. 

48 



Our habitat, if needs must be, 

Shall be transferred to regions free, 

Amidst yon rocky fastnesses; 

And next their crags our brood we'll bless. 

The granite sinews of yon heights 

Shall mould our young, restore their rights. 

Aye ; more ; invigorate each heart, 

And blend their spirits with man's start. 

Our wants are few; nor aught disburse, 

Save what necessity must nurse. 

Yon noble crests shall cradle be 

For our offspring, till liberty, 

Birth-right of man, shall blast and rot 

Greed's petty meannesses, hell's lot. 

DeWet and Botha shall destroy 

Yon bloodthirsty whelps, and employ 

All merciless means to stampede, 

With grim destruction, their foul greed. 

Inhuman zeal identifies 

Proud Britain's magnanimity. 
Her glory wallows in disguise — 

The sordid mask of infamy. 
The dev'lish energy, the boast 
Of her blind hordes, recks not wars' cost, 

49 



But craves the recognition e'er 

Of royalty, with its cheap glare, 

Its affectations and pretence, 

Its gaudy functions and nonsense. 

What frills or gewgaws, pray, dear friend, 

Are there about true righteousness ? 
What glamor haloes honor's trend, 

That their proud spirits would possess ? 
Alas ! Justice, thy glories dim 
Afore the tinsel of greed's whim ! 

VIII 
" Down with kingly sovereignty ! 
Effete excrescence — mockery ! 
'Tis as the slime upon the surf. 
Or, as the toadstool on the turf. 
Man's independence withers where 
Its empty vanities appear. 
It vitiates his brotherhood ; 
For caste pulsates e'en with its blood. 
And privileges dissipate 
True equity, proud honor's state. 
Therefore, away with its vile taint ! 
'Twould blight th' integrity of saint. 

5° 



Faugh ! its foul effluvia clot 

Humanity's true franchise — lot. 

O God ! sustain our hopes — endow 

Our spirits with undying glow 

Of dominant defiance — blend 

Our ev'ry instinct, to the end 

That grim existence must respond 

To naught save warfare's bristling wand — 

Maintain our 'legiance to the cause 

Of liberty, till death's weird jaws 

Close down upon each bleeding clay. 

O sweet such ending ! 'Tis faith's way. 

'Tis but the triumph of the soul, 

The glory of the mind's control. 

So may our eve of life be sung 

With no regrets ; nor know the tongue 

Of sacrilege or perfidy : 

Nor aught but psalms of constancy. 

Not e'en one hint of faithlessness 

Must mar our confidence — success. 

Then Heav'nly Grace will 'noint our days 

And our crude wisdom chant His praise." 



OCT 28 1901 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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